Biografía:
Roy Harper es cantante, compositor, poeta, historiador y por supuesto un gran guitarrista acústico y uno de los más influyentes compositores británicos, muy amigo de Jimmy page, el cual le puso el nombre a una de sus canciones en el disco Led Zeppelin III llamada Hats off to (Roy) Harper. 14 años más tarde harian un disco juntos llamado Jugula. Además ha trabajado con Paul McCartney, David Gilmour, Kate Bush y Keith Moon, entre muchos otros artistas.
Read more on Last.fm
¡Cuatro años de duro trabajo!Este mes de mayo cumplimos cuatro años al aire. Seguimos trabajando en la difusión de este maravilloso instrumento, ¡gracias por participar en nuestra historia!
Artist: Roy Harper
Song: Hors D'oeuvres
Album: Stormcock
Tabbed by: Wiktor R. Kolowiecki
E-mail: [email protected]
---------------------------------
Intro: C C/B Am G G/F# D/D4
Verse:
C C/B Am G G/F# Em7 D/D4
The judge sits on his great assize
Twelve men wise with swollen thighs
Who never ever told no lies
Whose minds were ever such a size
Whose lives were ever such a prize
Whose brains bred answers just like flies
Whose answers stalked their thoughts like spies
Whose lead ball through the courtroom flies
To rip a hole clean between two eyes
That never ever wore disguise
And never ever saw blue skies
Who quickly lived now slowly dies
Who closed unopened otherwise
Chorus:
G D Em
Well you can lead a horse to water
But you're never gonna make him drink
And you can lead a man to slaughter
But you're never gonna make him think
Verse 2:
The critic rubs his tired arse
Scrapes his poor brains, strains and farts
And wields a pen that stops and starts
And thinks in terms of booze and tarts
And sits there playing with his parts
He says I'm much too crude and far too course
And he says this singer's just a farce
He's got no healing formulas
He's got no cure-all for our scars
He's got no bra-strap for our bras
And our sagging tits no longer hold a full house of hearts
And you know what? I don't think this little song's gonna make the charts
Chorus
-------------------------------
not-obvious chords:
C/B - 022010
G/F# - 220033
------------------------------
Lublin, Poland
22.07.09
Song: Hors D'oeuvres
Album: Stormcock
Tabbed by: Wiktor R. Kolowiecki
E-mail: [email protected]
---------------------------------
Intro: C C/B Am G G/F# D/D4
Verse:
C C/B Am G G/F# Em7 D/D4
The judge sits on his great assize
Twelve men wise with swollen thighs
Who never ever told no lies
Whose minds were ever such a size
Whose lives were ever such a prize
Whose brains bred answers just like flies
Whose answers stalked their thoughts like spies
Whose lead ball through the courtroom flies
To rip a hole clean between two eyes
That never ever wore disguise
And never ever saw blue skies
Who quickly lived now slowly dies
Who closed unopened otherwise
Chorus:
G D Em
Well you can lead a horse to water
But you're never gonna make him drink
And you can lead a man to slaughter
But you're never gonna make him think
Verse 2:
The critic rubs his tired arse
Scrapes his poor brains, strains and farts
And wields a pen that stops and starts
And thinks in terms of booze and tarts
And sits there playing with his parts
He says I'm much too crude and far too course
And he says this singer's just a farce
He's got no healing formulas
He's got no cure-all for our scars
He's got no bra-strap for our bras
And our sagging tits no longer hold a full house of hearts
And you know what? I don't think this little song's gonna make the charts
Chorus
-------------------------------
not-obvious chords:
C/B - 022010
G/F# - 220033
------------------------------
Lublin, Poland
22.07.09
Roy Rosas
Roy Vedas
Roy Wood
Roy Woods
Roy Y Los Gentil (...)
Royal Trux
Royal Wade Kimes
Royal Wood
Royce Wood Junio (...)
RoyishGoodLooks